I made my way home from the doctor’s office in a shocked daze. For the first time since I’d moved to Chicago, I wished my mother lived nearby. She was the only person who would understand why this supposedly happy news filled me with dread. Then I thought of Blanche, who must be wondering why I’d turned to her for help when I had my pick of Lemont family doctors. I could count on my cousin for straight advice.
Blanche was about to go to work when I called, so I agreed to meet her at the club. She greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and led me to a table in the corner. The Pharaoh’s Club had a sad, neglected air in the midafternoon, like a party dress that dazzles only when it’s worn. Without people, without music, the gold tablecloths and sapphire-blue walls looked garish, and I could see stains on the worn carpets. A lingering aroma of smoke and spilled champagne hung in the air.
“Are you sure it’s all right?” I asked. “You’re not too busy?”
“Naw, Mr. Pitz is thrilled you’re here.” She rolled her eyes toward the manager, who had hovered over us when I came in.
Darling Blanche. I’d taken her for granted during those weeks we shared a room, those giddy days when all my thoughts were tangled up in Matthew. Only a few months had passed since then, but I felt ages older in my squeaky new shoes and expensive wool coat. Blanche looked different, too. Her lighthearted manner seemed forced, part of the uniform she pulled on at the club rather than natural high spirits.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I’m going to have a baby.”
Blanche worked her features into a smile. “Congratulations. You must be over the moon.”
“I’m not. That’s what’s so awful. Matthew and I were going to Africa . . .” A tent under the night sky. I longed for that imaginary vision so much it ached. “We can’t go if I’m pregnant. He’ll be so upset.”
“You haven’t told him?”
“Not yet. I can’t. I’ll have to pretend to be thrilled, and I’m not.”
Blanche blinked quickly. Were those tears? She rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand.
“Blanche, what is it? Please tell me.”
She started to laugh, but it came out as a sob. She turned away and took a deep breath.
“Well, aren’t we a pair of perfect saps,” she said. “Kate, I know it’s a surprise and all, but don’t you see how lucky you are? You’ve got a husband who loves you and a beautiful house and soon you’ll have a baby—what’s there to complain about? You have everything a girl could ever want.”
“Oh, Blanche.” I was stung by my utter denseness. “You’ll have babies, too, one day. I know it.”
“Will I?” She looked at me, anguished. “The problem is, I’ve found my guy, the one I want to live happily ever after with. But it’s never going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s married, that’s why. It doesn’t matter that his wife is a shrew who makes his life hell or that he loves me as much as I love him. We’re stuck. I have to see him here every day, and we have to pretend like nothing’s going on, and I don’t know how much longer I can stand it.”
I remembered Blanche chattering about a good-looking saxophonist who’d joined the club’s band. She’d talked about him a few times, giggling, when I asked her if there was any special man in her life. Then she’d stopped. I thought it meant things had cooled down; now I realized she’d gotten secretive because things had heated up.
“He can get a divorce, can’t he?” I asked. “No one holds that against a musician.”
“His wife will never agree. He’s committed adultery, even admitted it to her, but she won’t let him out of the marriage. She’d rather make him suffer.”
Blanche’s shoulders slumped, and she covered her face with her hands. I pulled my chair over and put an arm around her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I had no idea.”
She nodded. “I know. I shouldn’t have sprung this on you.”
“No, I’m glad you did,” I said. “Listen, why don’t you come up to Lakecrest this weekend? My mother-in-law is having a big supper on Saturday, and I’d look forward to it a lot more if you were there.”
“Really?”
“Really. Stay overnight. Bring your fellow—no one needs to know he’s married. It will shake things up, having a jazz player around.”
“Oh, Billy can be real smooth,” Blanche assured me. “I’d love for you to meet him. He’s just the greatest. You know what it’s like, falling in love so fast your heart hurts.”
“Sure I do.”
That was enough of an opening for Blanche to let loose with all the feelings she’d kept sewn up, and I let her go. I listened and nodded and smiled. It was enough, for a while, to distract me from what was to come: sharing the news that the Lemont family was about to welcome its newest addition.
I’d prepared myself for Matthew to be disappointed and sink into one of his moods, but in the end he surprised me. Though it took him a moment to understand what I was saying, he seemed genuinely happy, wrapping me in his arms and swearing he couldn’t care less about Africa. The only things that mattered were the baby and me. At the dinner table that night, Hannah reacted with genuine delight, squeezing my hand and looking at Matthew with adoring, misty eyes.
Marjorie shrugged. “I should have guessed,” she said. “You have been looking chubby, Kate.”
As Hannah and Matthew chattered and Marjorie sulked, I found myself strangely silent. The momentous news really had nothing to do with me. It was all about the baby, Hannah’s first grandchild. There was talk of names and decorating the nursery and pulling out Matthew’s old christening gown, and suddenly it was all too much.
“Kate?” Matthew pushed back his chair and stood up. “Are you all right?”
“A bit light-headed, that’s all.”
“You mustn’t push yourself,” Hannah ordered. “Perhaps I should cancel the dinner party on Saturday. It might be too much.”
“No, please don’t,” I said.
“If you’re sure,” Matthew said.
I nodded. “I invited Blanche,” I said. “Hope that’s all right.”
“Of course,” Matthew asked. “One more won’t hurt, will it, Mum?”
“Two more,” I said. “She has a beau, Billy. They could stay for the weekend.”
Marjorie snickered. “Why not invite the whole Pharaoh’s Club revue?”
Hannah uttered a sharp tsk. “If Kate would like Blanche and her gentleman friend to stay, then they’re welcome.” She patted my hand. “Whatever you want, my dear.”
She was practically groveling. That might be the one bright spot of this pregnancy.
Blanche and Billy arrived late Saturday afternoon, in time for a quick tour of Lakecrest before the rest of the guests arrived. With his dark hair and dark eyes—echoes of Rudy Valentino—Billy made a dashing impression, and he was friendly and good-natured, perfect for Blanche. I genuinely hoped things would work out for them.
Billy’s eyes got wider and wider as we entered each new room. “I can’t believe you live here!” he exclaimed.
“I can’t believe it, either.”
“It’s swell. Like something out of the pictures.” His cheerful enjoyment made me less self-conscious, and I liked him even more.